The Shadow of the Past
by Nerweniel
Summary: The final battle has begun and Voldemort is sieging Hogwarts. All he wants is one person. But that is not Harry Potter...
1. Siege

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office. He was staring -again- through his large window, wondering how this ever could have happened. For it had. The unspeakable had occurred.   
  
The Siege of Hogwarts by the dark lord and his Death Eaters was a fact.   
  
And how, how, how… Were they really still living in the Middle Ages, then? Or had they been that blind? They hadn't, he knew and though… no, therefore… he was worried.  
  
The armies of Voldemort had grown spectacularly. All of his former followers had openly chosen his side again. All except one.   
  
Severus Snape had remained faithful to Albus- as he had ever excepted it to be otherwise. Severus was bitter, Albus knew, but also, despite everything, a good man. His resolute choice for his Headmaster and mentor made Albus happy, but still… They had a problem. A serious problem, indeed.  
  
Here they were, locked up in a castle like in the good old days of the Founders themselves. Locked up. Besieged. Five hundred frightened students and teachers. For they were all frightened- though some indeed did a very good job hiding it.   
  
And of course there was always Minerva- his dearly, dearly beloved Minerva of whom he was so proud. She had accepted the situation and dealt with it. As she always did. Minerva was truly admirable… and a Gryffindor in the true sense of the word.   
  
Albus smiled as he thought of his beloved Deputy Headmistress. Yet, his smile froze as he looked through the window again. A siege. A siege, for god's sake!   
  
How could Voldemort ever have done such a thing? He had lots of followers, but…   
  
Albus sighed as he looked at the blue sky.  
  
Such a beautiful day. And yet.   
  
Hogwarts was mourning, and not only because of the siege.  
  
Mainly because of the Slytherins, of whom almost all had chosen the side of the Dark Lord… They…  
  
A soft knock on the door interrupted Albus's thoughts.  
  
"Yes?" he said, without looking up. And as he heard the soft footsteps coming closer, he added  
  
"Yes, Minerva?"  
  
As he turned around, he indeed looked straight into the emerald-colored eyes of his Deputy and wife. She didn't smile, though.  
  
"Hello, Albus." she said, in her usual, professional voice, surprising him a little.  
  
"Hello, Minerva." he mimicked, and grinned despite himself as she raised her dark eyebrows in that very typical way of hers.  
  
Yet, a faint smile appeared on her lips when he took her hand and squeezed it.  
  
"It is okay," he then stated calmly. "it is okay to be frightened, Minerva."  
  
And suddenly, Minerva's whole professional attitude disappeared as she fell down on a chair and sighed heavily. She was nodding.  
  
"You're right. I am frightened. But I can't show it, can I? They..."  
  
She pointed vaguely at the door. "They all count on me. I have to be- I have to stay stern old McGonagall. Stern old McGonagall is never frightened."  
  
Albus smiled vaguely, as he pointed out  
  
"Perhaps not, but lovely young Minerva is, isn't she?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Albus let out a sigh and sat down in the other chair, looking at his clearly very worried Deputy. She really did look worried. She was paler than ever- and especially, where was her usual bun? Her long, ebony hairs were held back in a messy braid. As Minerva saw Albus was staring at him, she smiled.  
  
"Yes Albus, I know I look terrible, but this is a- a rather extraordinary situation."  
  
"Understatement of the year, my dear. By the way, fancy a lemon drop?"  
  
Albus opened a small, brown bag which was filled with his favorite muggle sweets and offered one to her. Minerva looked sternly at her husband. When she spoke, she sounded very much like a parent reprimanding a child.  
  
"Albus, stop being a child. And by the way, you know I don't like them."  
  
Albus's eyes twinkled.  
  
"Still more of a chocolate addict then, my dear?"  
  
He reached out for a silvery colored bag, but Minerva interrupted him angrily.  
  
"My god, Albus, shut up! We are being besieged and you… you…"   
  
As she shook her head, loose strands of hair twirled around her head.  
  
Albus smiled again, and then added thoughtfully.  
  
"You know, my dear, you should wear your hair loose more often…"  
  
"Albus, STOP IT!" Minerva snapped, quickly pulling the loose locks of hair back into her braid. "You are ridiculous! This is dead serious, you know. Can't you take anything serious?"  
  
As in an answer to her question, Albus sighed and sat down. He looked sadly into his wife's eyes.  
  
"Yes," he then began. "yes, I can take things serious, Minerva. Do really think I don't understand this situation? That I don't see how desperate this all is? But I, Minerva, I try to be happy, despite everything. If this are my last days, or our last days, perhaps, I don't want to live them in sadness. I want to lasthurt smile, he stared at his entwined hands.   
  
Minerva stared at her hands as well. It did not occur to her often, but she felt speechless. And utterly ashamed, though she did not know why. Or- yes, she did. She, Minerva McGonagall… Minerva Dumbledore-McGonagall, actually… Albus Dumbledore's wife and best friend, had misjudged him terribly. She had utterly, utterly terribly misjudged him. How could she ever have said- what she had said?   
  
With a soft voice, she muttered, not daring to look into her husband's eyes.  
  
"I am sorry, Albus, for I have misjudged you."   
  
She slowly looked into his sky blue eyes again.   
  
But Albus already smiled again, and with a comforting squeeze of her hand, he said  
  
"Don't be, my dear, I have already forgiven you. Now, do you want a bar of chocolate or not?"  
  
Minerva smiled as well as he offered her one.  
  
"I do. Thank you."  
  
As she tasted the delicious flavor of the milk chocolate, she laughed.  
  
"My god, that was a long time ago indeed. This really is wonderful chocolate. Where did you get it?"  
  
Albus smiled mysteriously.   
  
"That," he then said. "is my secret, my dear."  
  
Minerva nodded and smiled. But as she remembered the situation they were in, her smile faded again. She sighed and stood up, he braid swinging loosely around her head.  
  
As she stood before the window, she stopped and stared at the now neglected lawns of Hogwarts school. And at Hagrid's deserted little house. And at the Forbidden Forest.   
  
With another sigh, she crossed her arms.  
  
"Albus, I am frightened. Or maybe that isn't the right word. I am ready to die if it is necessary, you know that. But I feel so desperate."  
  
Albus stood up and walked down to the window as well. Leaning his hands on the window-sill, he muttered heartily  
  
"I know how you feel. If I only could…" He turned to her, taking her hands.  
  
"Minerva, if I could, I'd wipe away all of your tears, I'd fight away all of your fears… I'd give you a world without…"  
  
But she softly interrupted him, smiling sadly  
  
"I know that, my love. But right now, the world needs you more than I need you… The students, the children, the young people who have to grow up in such a terrible time… I grew up in Grindelwald's days, Albus, but I have never been through anything like this before."  
  
Albus nodded.  
  
"I know. It is an almost surrealistic thing. But it as, alas, the truth."  
  
Minerva sighed.  
  
"I know. And we will handle it. As Godric Gryffindor would have handled it. But, oh…"  
  
In a sudden, passionate gesture, she stretched out her hands towards the rising sun.  
  
"It's such a beautiful day, Albus, and I just wished we all could be happy. If this was just any ordinary day… Oh Albus, I want to see my students sit on the lawn, I want to reprimand the Gryffindor Trio for sneaking to Hagrid's house between two classes, I want to go to the lake and just sit beside it with my book… I just want to be free, Albus!"  
  
"I know how you feel, my dear." Albus repeated. "I feel exactly the same way."  
  
"But you know, Albus…" Minerva turned to her husband again, looking dead serious and with a brave twinkle in her eyes.  
  
"I sometimes just want to go outside and fight them. Even if I would die… battling is better than this! I don't want to just sit here and wait… If I would go, maybe Voldemort…"  
  
Albus laid his arm around her and shook his head.  
  
"Don't go, Minerva. Maybe the time will be right someday, but it is not now, my dear. Your students need you. They depend on you, and you know it. They do need you, Minerva."  
  
Minerva sighed heavily and stared at the clear, blue sky again.  
  
"I know, Albus."  
  
But after a short silence, she continued  
  
"But they need freedom as well…"  
  
~*~  
  
Illustration for this chapter = http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/4727061/ 


	2. Thoughts And Comfort

"Freedom, yes," Albus seriously interrupted his Deputy. "But they do not need their beloved Transfigurations teacher to die. I will not have you sacrificing your life for… for probably just nothing."  
  
Minerva looked sternly at her husband and sat up straight.  
  
"I believe," she then answered, in what was her "official" tone. "that that matter is not yours to decide. But-" she quickly added as her husband opened his mouth again. "I can assure you, Albus, that I don't plan on running out of the castle and throw myself at the Dark Lord."  
  
Albus grinned.  
  
"Then it is okay, my dear."  
  
Minerva nodded and cleared her throat as she stood up.  
  
"Yes it is. By the way- I think I must be going, I have lessons to prepare."  
  
Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise.  
  
"Lessons, Minerva? You do know, don't we, that…"  
  
"Yes," his wife hastily interrupted him. "yes, I know that classes have been cancelled for the duration of the siege. But you know, Albus, it is not good for our students to have so much spare time. So I have decided to… well, keep on teaching, just for those who want to come. And actually, my idea proved to not be that wrong. There are really quite a few students who don't just want to sit around all day. I don't only teach them some more Transfigurations, of course- I thought some more Defense against the Dark Arts would come in… quite handy."  
  
"You're the Queen of Understatements, my dear." Albus commented dryly. "And yes, I think it's a good idea as well. But what about Remus?"  
  
Minerva softly coughed.   
  
"It is full moon, Albus."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"But,"   
  
Minerva resolutely grabbed her dark green cloak.  
  
"I really must be going now, Albus."  
  
Albus smiled and stood up as he offered her his arm.  
  
"I'll walk you to your rooms, my dear, if you don't care. I have had enough sad thoughts for today…"  
  
"Good."   
  
As Minerva gracefully clung to his arm, the couple started walking through the corridors of what seemed to be a very deserted Hogwarts. They both knew t it wasn't. The students all were in their Common Rooms, seeking in each other for the confidence they themselves did not feel.   
  
As the Headmaster and his Deputy reached the dark, ebony door that lead to Minerva's room, a small, stone gargoyle -which looked slightly like a cat, actually- shrieked  
  
"Password?"  
  
"Odi et amo." Minerva responded quickly, as the door swung open.  
  
"Are you coming in, Albus?" she then smiled with an inviting gesture.  
  
As her husband entered the beautifully decorated rooms, he teasingly raised his eyebrows.  
  
"I did not know your knowledge of Latin, Minerva?"  
  
As Minerva fell down on her comfortable chair, dropping her cloak carelessly on her desk, she snorted.  
  
"Albus, you know very well I know Latin."  
  
Albus had the grace to blush and sat down next to her.  
  
"Okay. Okay, I indeed did know that. But why "odi et amo"?"  
  
Minerva sighed.  
  
"It comes, as you know, from a poem of a Roman poet called Catullus. It means "I hate and I love", and that is… that's a quite appropriate sentence for the situation I am in at the moment."  
  
Albus smiled but frowned playfully.  
  
"And who is that very lucky person whom you love?"  
  
Minerva sighed and raised her hands.  
  
"My god, you are probably the wisest wizard of this time, but sometimes you're just an idiot Albus. You just want me to actually "say" it, don't you? Okay then- it's you whom I love. Yes, Albus, I love you, adore you, am utterly and completely mad about you. Are you satisfied now?"  
  
Albus grinned.  
  
"I quite am, thank you."  
  
"But you still are an idiot." Minerva muttered mockingly as her husband chuckled.  
  
"And the one you hate- is Lord Voldemort, I suppose?" he then added in a way more serious tone.  
  
Minerva didn't say a word, but stared piercingly into Albus's bright blue eyes, as she slowly and in a somewhat strange tone muttered  
  
"It is not that easy, Albus. Love and hate. You and Voldemort. There is more in that one little sentence- and you know what I am talking about. I hate and I love, Albus…"  
  
Albus nodded curtly, but carefully laid an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"I know, Minerva."  
  
"I know you know. But sometimes-" she then said heartily. "I think it really would be better to just go outside and face him. To fight, to battle, to…"  
  
"Don't. We need you too much, Minerva. We…"  
  
Minerva opened her mouth to respond rather sharply; but a soft knock on the door interrupted her, and she stood up.  
  
"We'll speak of this later."  
  
Meeting her frightening gaze, Albus couldn't help it- he softly chuckled. Luckily, Minerva had already turned towards the door and slowly opened it.  
  
At first sight she saw nobody, but when she heard a soft sob, she looked down and saw a very small, auburn-haired girl standing before her. It was one of her first year Gryffindors, and the child was crying.  
  
"Miss Moonseed?" she said briskly, but her tone slightly softened as she noticed the state the girl was in. She invitingly opened the door a bit more.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Slightly hesitatingly, Rosalena Moonseed entered her teacher's rooms.  
  
Once she'd closed the door behind the girl, Minerva asked quite curtly  
  
"Now tell me, Miss Moonseed, what is wrong?"  
  
Staring at her feet, the child stammered  
  
"Professor, Robin said- he said, he said we were all going to die and when I started… when I started… when I…"  
  
"Yes?" Minerva asked somewhat impatiently.  
  
"When I told him I was… frightened, he said…. he said I wasn't… I wasn't a Gryffindor…"  
  
With this, the inevitable fit of weeping came, and as girl hid her face in her hands, Minerva looked at Albus, clearly asking for help. As he shrugged her shoulders, she sent him an angry glare. Albus could hear her softly hiss "Men!" as she sat down on her chair again and pulled the crying girl on her lap.  
  
Softly- and slightly uncomfortably- Minerva softly patting the girl's back.  
  
"Come on now… now, now, Miss Moonseed, don't cry… Rosalena… come on…"  
  
But the girl kept crying and crying- and Minerva perfectly understood why she cried. In fact, she felt she could cry herself as well. But she didn't. Stern old McGonagall did not cry. But stern old McGonagall was right now having a crying child on her lap. Which she'd not done often before as well… Yes, she was- or better, had been- the oldest of three children, but since she had been at Hogwarts during most of Malcolm and Maia's early childhood, she really hadn't much experience with kids. Except with… But that was another story…  
  
"Come on…" she soothed the child as the girl hid her wet face in Minerva's robes. "Mr. Coral doesn't know what he's talking about. Do you hear me, my dear? Robin Coral doesn't know what he is talking about. We are all frightened and that is bloody normal!"  
  
With a last soft sob, Rosalena lifted her head towards her teacher's.  
  
"You as well, P-Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Rosalena, I as well. And you are as well a Gryffindor as… as every Gryffindor is! Bravery is good, but we have to acknowledge there are things one has to be frightened of."  
  
Oh my god, look who's talking now, Minerva secretly thought. I, Miss I-am-never-frightened, am actually telling this child…   
  
But she did realize how confused this little one had to feel. Minerva knew Rosalena Moonseed was muggle-born, and how very disturbing this whole situation was- she felt it probably was way worse for muggle-borns, children of barely eleven years old, like this one. Who had never heard of Voldemort Death-Eaters before they received the Letter from Hogwarts. Who…  
  
As the girl had stopped sobbing, Minerva slowly released her and smiled comfortingly as she laid a hand on Rosalena's shoulder.   
  
"Are you sure you're alright now?"  
  
The girl nodded and shyly smiled.  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"Shall I then walk you to your Common Room?"  
  
The girl quickly shook her head.  
  
"No… no, Professor, I can do that myself… I am sorry I was so…"  
  
"Don't be. It's okay."  
  
As Minerva opened the door and Rosalena stepped out of the room, she smiled again.  
  
"And thank you, Professor. Bye, Professor McGonagall. Bye, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
"Bye, Miss Moonseed." the two teachers said in unison, as Minerva closed the door again, wiping the imaginary sweat of her forehead.  
  
She then sat down again and looked sternly at her husband.  
  
"Well, thank for helping me out, Albus!" she said sarcastically.  
  
Albus grinned.   
  
"Again your razor sharp sarcasm, my dear. But seriously- I think you could perfectly manage this on your own."  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"They need you, Min. She needs you- they all need you."  
  
"Yes…" 


	3. Odi Et Amo

Yet, Minerva kept on worrying, especially after Dumbledore had left. But she didn't worry about her students, for once. She just couldn't get that one, simple sentence out of her head.  
  
"Odi et amo."  
  
I hate and I love.  
  
She knew the whole poem by heart.  
  
"Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris? Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior."  
  
She sighed.  
  
"I hate and I love. Why do I do it, perhaps you might ask? I don't know, but I feel it happening to me and I suffer."  
  
How true the words of this verse were. It was almost- almost as if that Roman poet of so long ago, as if that Gaius Valerius Catullus had foreseen what would once be her fate. Her fate, the fate of Minerva Katherine McGonagall, of just a witch in just a school in just a land…   
  
Maybe- wouldn't it be funny if… no, of course it was ridiculous, but what if that Catullus had been a wizard himself- a Seer perhaps… A real seer- not a second Sybill Trelawney… Not that Minerva, of course, believed such things really existed- her whole skeptical, Scottish mind resisted strongly at such a thing… but still… Just imagine this man had foreseen this.   
  
That would mean- that would mean this whole poem, which she- very appropriately- loved and hated, had been written for her…   
  
But that was, of course, a ridiculous and utterly childish thought. Really! A crazy, immature, foolish and totally untrue thought… Yet, a nice one… 


	4. Long Ago

Okay, this 4th chapter actually contains what was the last part of the 3rd. I have extended it a bit so it could form a whole chapter by itself. I have also added some information on whom Catullus was for those not acquainted to Latin :).   
  
~*~  
  
And how could Minerva ever have known, that more than two thousand years earlier…?  
  
In the ancient Rome, a tall, young man, clad in a bright white toga, sat at his desk, staring and wondering…  
  
Who was this strange woman? He kept on seeing her in his dreams and thoughts, that tall, beautiful, dark haired woman in her green robes… Gaius Valerius Catullus knew he had the gift of Foresight, of course- his mother and father both had been from prominent wizard families, and he, as well, was a talented wizard. Yet he'd never had a vision so clearly and so enchantingly before. Yet, he realized very well that she, the woman, wasn't probably even born yet… But one time, he was sure of that, she would be born, and then she would maybe read the poems he'd written for her.  
  
For she was his Lesbia- his one and only Lesbia was her, and not that arrogant, ugly Clodia Pulcher who thought he loved her. He had kind-of loved her, yes, but that was before he'd met Lesbia.   
  
For her, only for her, for the strangely beautiful, pale, ebony-haired woman with that strange, perhaps magical, artifact on the bridge of her nose, he wrote his love poems…  
  
With a casual gesture, he pointed his wand at the closed closet in the corner of his room.  
  
"Accio stilus."   
  
As the pen came flying into his hand, he eagerly started to write again  
  
"Odi et amo…"  
  
And the words came. They just came, as they always did. All he had to do was close his eyes and see her face again. The words came, and they kept on coming.  
  
"Odi et amo…"  
  
He didn't even know why he'd found those words so strangely fit for her. Perhaps she, once, would understand them. He did not, but she would.  
  
She would.   
  
With a heavy sigh, Gaius Valerius Catullus leant his head on his arms.  
  
Would he ever meet her, his lovely Lesbia, his queen, his dream?  
  
No, he wouldn't…  
  
~*~  
  
Okay, as promised above, some explanations:  
  
Gaius Valerius Catullus was a famous poet who lived in Rome in the first century BC. He has written lots of beautiful Latin love poems, all dedicated to and written for one mysterious woman, whom he called "Lesbia". We know that that wasn't her real name, but we don't know whom she really was. Some people suppose she was in fact Clodia Pulcher, a pretty but unscrupulous woman whom Catullus certainly knew. We know nothing for sure, though, so I thought that perhaps… perhaps all Catullus's wonderful love poems were written for nobody less than Minerva McGonagall herself :)… 


	5. Emptiness

Dinner at Hogwarts.   
  
Minerva had always loved dinner at Hogwarts- and not only because of the plates, which were always filled with the most delicious food imaginable… well, all the better, of course, but…  
  
It was more… the atmosphere. Though Minerva would, of course, never admit it openly, she adored all her students. Especially her Gryffindors, whom were like real children to her.   
  
And seeing them all together, merrily and laughingly, always managed to make her happy.  
  
But not now.  
  
The usual chattering had faded, and now, if someone laughed a little bit too loud, students from all Houses gave him or her the strangest looks. As if laughing was inappropriate here.  
  
Yet it wasn't. If there was something Albus had ever taught Minerva, then it was that. Laughing was a necessary thing- something that could make you feel better, something that could heal you.  
  
But Minerva understood the reaction of her "little cubs"; as she tended to call them.  
  
The empty places at the table of Slytherin took her breath away as well. Those terrible empty spots, which made the large table look way too large…   
  
Only a few first- and second years were still present. All the older students were gone. They had chosen the side of the besieging Lord. As they fathers and grandfathers had chosen it before them.   
  
Poor kids, Minerva thought despite herself, sitting on her usual chair, next to the large chair of the Headmaster. Did they have a choice, then? Did they? Oh, weren't they just puppets in their fathers' hands? They didn't have the right to choose.  
  
Or perhaps they had, Minerva recalled as she noticed a tall, slim girl with long reddish hairs, sitting at Slytherin table. It was Blaise Zabini, and she was the only 7th year's Slytherin who had had the guts to tell her father that she didn't intend to follow the path of evilness her forefathers had followed. Zabini, Minerva knew, was a Death Eater of the worst kind- and his only daughter's disobedience had most probably been quite… surprising to him.  
  
But it gave Minerva hope for the future- everything was not lost if this girl, a girl in whose veins the blood of the most malicious Dark Wizards flowed, had the bravery to stand up against her family and show her loyalty to her school. For that was real bravery. Bravery worthy of Gryffindor.  
  
One beacon of hope, yes, but so many beacons of sadness as well.   
  
And Minerva knew her "cubs" detested the Slytherins- of course they did… as Gryffindors and Slytherins had always disliked each other. Yet this had shocked them. They had always thought of their rivals as sneaky, idiotic and mean kids. But not… not really evil, not… not real junior Death Eaters. Yet that they had obviously been all those years…  
  
Minerva shook her head and sighed.   
  
Suddenly, a soft nudge woke her from her thoughts. As she looked up, the twinkling eyes of her husband greeted her.   
  
"You were dreaming, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
Minerva smiled faintly.  
  
"Yes, I was. But it weren't pleasant dreams."  
  
As her gaze strayed off again towards that strangely empty table, her husband nodded.  
  
"I know. It is terrible. You've taught them- and now they are fighting against you. I taught Voldemort. I know the feeling."  
  
Minerva sighed again and nodded as well.  
  
"I know you know it. But how do you think I feel? Tom was… and Albus!" she then suddenly exclaimed, as she felt a very familiar foot stroke against hers.  
  
"Are you playing footsie with me again?"  
  
Her husband grinned as her laid a finger on his thin lips.  
  
"Shhh… Minerva, we don't want everybody to know it, do we? And yes, my dear, I am, for we've had enough sadness for tonight and you need to relax!"  
  
"Okay, *mother*." Minerva muttered, yet she smiled.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore, you are just incorrigible. You are just a big child- and yet, for some reason, I appear to love you."  
  
Albus grinned as his booted foot lightly touched hers again.  
  
"I know that, my love, and you know what? It is mutual." 


	6. Bravery

"Okay, class. So keep on practicing with these spells- the Chamber of Requirement will be the perfect location for it. But no hexing in the corridors!"  
  
Minerva's threatening glare was only half as threatening as usual, yet all students nodded obediently. It was a strange thing, but they all seemed to be more… attentive, more willing to learn since the siege had begun. Since the lessons were officially cancelled and since they weren't forced to follow the classes their Transfigurations teacher organized…   
  
Yet most of them did. Even sitting in a Common Room and playing games became boring after two full weeks… And they very well realized they would probably very soon need every magical skill they possessed.  
  
As the students- of all Houses, of all ages- started to somewhat unwillingly leave the room, Minerva leant her head on her hands. Yet she immediately sat up straight again. It was perhaps an obsession, but she was determined not to show any weakness. She had always been like that- always.   
  
As she stood up, started to gather her parchments and noticed almost all students had already left, she heard a soft, deep voice.  
  
"Professor McGonagall?"  
  
As she looked up, she stared right into the blue-greenish eyes of Blaise Zabini.   
  
"Yes, Miss Zabini?" she then spoke briskly.  
  
"Can I talk to you for a second?"  
  
Minerva stared at the girl over her glasses for a moment, then nodded.  
  
"Sure. Have a seat."  
  
With a slightly nervous gesture, the girl obeyed as Minerva sat down as well.  
  
"What is the matter?"  
  
Blaise bit her lips- and Minerva realized how strange this all was to her. Her own Gryffindors, her cubs, as she secretly called them, often came to her for advice or just to talk, but this girl… she… she was a Slytherin! Why did she…?  
  
Yet, Minerva continued.  
  
"Tell me, Miss Zabini. I never bite my students, you know."  
  
Blaise smiled, but it was a strange smile. This girl, Minerva realized, wasn't "a bit frightened" of her in the usual way students were. Perhaps it was just Blaise's Slytherin slyness, but Minerva felt as if the girl looked right through her so carefully built up façade. It was not a pleasant feeling, yet not an unpleasant one as well.  
  
"Good…" the girl then began. "You see, Professor McGonagall, I have always kind of disliked you. You are Head of Gryffindor and so… damn good!"  
  
Minerva nodded, not the least insulted. She understood.  
  
"But now…" Blaise hesitated, but then looked right into her teacher's eyes and spoke sincerely  
  
"I admire you, Professor. You are a brave woman. I have the greatest admiration for you and- and even my goddamn father can't change that. Not anymore."  
  
The girl's eyes spat fire, but Minerva also saw despair in them. And tears.  
  
"I hate him, Professor. I hate him and I wished I could wipe away all the blood of him that runs through my veins." she muttered hoarsely.   
  
Minerva stared at her student over the edge of her glasses. She then, impulsively, squeezed Blaise's hand.  
  
"Don't. It is never good to hate your parents."  
  
Blaise looked up and bitterly smiled.  
  
"How can you say that, Professor? Do you know how they, my father and his friends, speak of you?"  
  
As Minerva did not react, the girl exclaimed  
  
"They call you Dumbledore's whore, Professor! They speak of you as if- as if you've just achieved your position here at Hogwarts because… because… because you are good in… in bed."  
  
Blaise fiercely blushed and looked at her hands, yet Minerva did not move. She just mockingly raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Do they? Yes, of course they do. And I am sure that's not even the worst thing they say of me. But they don't hurt me anymore. Do you understand me, Miss Zabini… Blaise? They don't hurt me because I don't allow myself to hate them. For that is what they want. If they manage to corrupt us with hate as well, then they will win. I do not hate them. I perhaps could hate them if I wanted to, but I don't."  
  
She treated Blaise to a rare smile and stood up proudly. Minerva McGonagall was not as tall as people thought her to be, but she had a special kind of grace that added inches to her height.   
  
"I don't…" she then, almost dreamily, repeated. Blaise stood up as well, and to her Professor's great surprise bowed lightly. As she looked up again, she smiled.  
  
"That," she explained. "was the final sincere go-to-hell to my father. Do you know what our family device is? "A Zabini Bows For No-one". But I now bow for you, Professor, because you possess a bravery that I will never possess. Gryffindor bravery…"  
  
Her eyes strayed off as she thoughtfully repeated  
  
"Gryffindor bravery."  
  
Minerva saw the look in her eyes and determinedly grabbed the girl's shoulders.  
  
"Blaise, look at me!"  
  
The girl obeyed.  
  
"You have had the courage to understand that your parents are wrong. To leave their path and follow that of your own. You are as brave as I could expect of any of my Gryffindors! And I cannot add you to my House, because you have been sorted into Slytherin and thus have Slytherin qualities. But never, never, do you hear me, never feel yourself the inferior of a Gryffindor! Do- you- hear- me?"  
  
Blaise silently nodded and lowered her eyes under the piercing green-eyed gaze of her teacher. Then, very slowly, a smile appeared on her face as she leant forward and hugged her clearly surprised Professor.  
  
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall." she then muttered, a faint blush on her cheeks, as she hastily walked out of the classroom.   
  
Minerva felt dumbfounded. Had she- had she just hugged a Slytherin? Had she just comforted a Slytherin whose father called her the whore of Dumbledore?  
  
Yes, she had.  
  
And she did not feel bad. 


	7. Jean

Author Note: Today an extra long chapter because I am in an over-productive mood ^-^. Oh yes, and the song Albus sings is called "Jean" and is written by Rod McKuen in 1969 for the movie "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie". So it's not mine. Nor are all the HP characters, actually ^-^.  
  
~*~  
  
Another two weeks passed, and Minerva secretly wished the Death Eaters would finally attack. Wasn't everything better than this waiting, this waiting for… For what? What were the Death Eaters waiting for, actually? They were out there, camping on the lawns of Hogwarts, watching, observing the castle, but what did they want? Harry? Why did they then not attack?  
  
But did they want Harry?  
  
Minerva sighed and buried her face in her arms. Who was she trying to fool, after all?  
  
She knew whom Voldemort wanted.  
  
~*~  
  
Moments later, a soft hand on her left shoulder made her look up.  
  
"Albus." she then said, without even having to turn around.  
  
"Yes." her husband answered, as he took a chair and sat down next to her.  
  
"How much longer, Albus?" Minerva then asked flatly, uninterestedly.   
  
"I don't know."   
  
The Headmaster sounded desperate as he spoke those words. More desperate than ever before. He, Albus Dumbledore, the hero, the great wizard, the ever-wise man who always knew what to do. He didn't know.  
  
Yet, Minerva repeated, not even looking at him  
  
"How much longer, Albus?"  
  
She sighed and balled her fists in a sudden, furious gesture.  
  
"I cannot stand this anymore! I can't! How much longer are we stuck here, in this castle? I love Hogwarts, Albus, it's been my home for so long. But now, I hate it. I am a cat, Albus, what am I without fresh air, without grounds to stroll on? And everybody grows more and more frightened, and paler and paler, and… Oh, hell!"  
  
With this, the proud, calm Deputy Headmistress covered her face with her hands and cried.  
  
Minerva McGonagall did never cry.  
  
Minerva McGonagall did cry.   
  
Albus did not try to comfort her, for which she was secretly grateful. He just laid an arm around her trembling shoulders, as she took out one of her large handkerchiefs and blew her nose.  
  
"I- I am such a coward…"  
  
"You aren't."  
  
"I am. How do you then call a person who…"  
  
"Who wonderfully takes care of her students and of her poor, totally lost husband."  
  
Minerva faintly smiled, yet muttered  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Okay."  
  
As Minerva carefully wiped her tears away, she secretly cursed herself. What had happened to the Famous Self Control? For God's sake, as if crying was going to help anyone here…  
  
"Yet, it is true, Albus, I am a coward and don't you dare deny it."  
  
"Hogwarts needs you."  
  
"I know that, Albus, you always tell me that. But- oh, hell, what's got into me!" she exclaimed as fresh tears rolled from her cheeks.   
  
"That is, my dear, what we normal people usually call feelings." Albus quietly responded as he handed her his handkerchief.  
  
Minerva shot him an icy glare, yet the man smiled.  
  
"What is your middle name, my dear?"   
  
Now Minerva smiled as well, though she still was sobbing.  
  
"Jean, Albus, you've asked me that question a hundred times. And don't start with the song again…"  
  
Yet Albus smiled once more as he took his Deputy's hands and softly squeezed them.  
  
"Jean, Jean, roses are red   
  
All the leaves have gone green."  
  
He pulled her from her chair to the window.  
  
"And the clouds are so low   
  
You can touch them, and so   
  
Come out to the meadow, Jean."  
  
Despite herself, Minerva chuckled as Albus laid his arms around her waist and twirled her around.  
  
"Jean, Jean, you're young and alive   
  
Come out of your half-dreamed dream   
  
And run, if you will, to the top of the hill   
  
Open your arms, bonnie Jean."   
  
"Albus, you've sung that song so many times before, and…"  
  
"And every time I manage to make you smile, my dear."   
  
And indeed, he did, as they very slowly danced through the room on the soft tones of the Headmaster's soft, slightly hoarse voice.  
  
"Till the sheep in the valley come home my way…   
  
Till the stars fall around me and find me alone…   
  
When the sun comes a-singin'   
  
I'll still be waitin'…  
  
For Jean, Jean, roses are red   
  
And all of the leaves have gone green   
  
While the hills are ablaze with the moon's yellow haze   
  
Come into my arms, bonnie Jean "  
  
With a soft sigh, "Jean" did as Albus had asked as she leant her head on his shoulder.  
  
"And you will, my dear, when this is all over, you will run, if you will, to the top of that hill. That hill, over there."  
  
He smiled and pointed at a far away spot, even beyond the Lake.  
  
"And, if it's God's will, I'll walk there next to you."  
  
With a soft smile, Minerva burrowed her face in Albus' beard.  
  
"I'll pray for it, Albus. I really will. But-" she said, as she slowly started to come "back to earth".  
  
"Still remains the fact- I am a coward and if I was just a little bit of a Gryffindor, then I would go outside, there, and then I would fight! Then I would…"  
  
"Then we are all cowards, my dear."  
  
"You know what I mean, Albus. I mean…"  
  
~*~  
  
But Albus would never know what she meant, for on that very moment, a soft, yet firm knock on the door was heard, and a boy with messy, black hairs came in.  
  
"Hello, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore. Professor Lupin told me you were here… I-I need to talk to you…"  
  
Albus kindly smiled and nodded, pointing at one of the empty chairs.  
  
"Have a seat, Harry. What is the matter?"  
  
But Harry didn't sit down. He just stood there, biting his lips, and suddenly, both Albus and Minerva realized what this boy wanted to say…  
  
"I can't stay here anymore!" he then, suddenly, impulsively, exclaimed. "I can't stay here anymore, Professor. It is me whom Voldemort wants, well, let him have me! He wants to fight me, then let him fight me! I am going!"  
  
His words were exactly the words Albus had expected, yet they shocked him nonetheless.  
  
"Harry- I…"   
  
But as he saw the tears in the clear, green eyes of the boy, he felt suddenly incapable to say anything.  
  
"I…"  
  
But Albus shrugged his shoulders and sighed.  
  
"Oh for God's sake!" a sudden voice exclaimed from the corner of the room- surprising them both. They had almost forgotten in whose office they were sitting.  
  
With a determined gesture, Minerva stood up, strode forward and firmly, yet gently, laid her arms around Harry. It struck Dumbledore once more how much his wife resembled the boy. The messy, black hair- though Minerva's tight bun usually managed to control it quite well!-, the piercing, green eyes… Harry was now a few inches taller than his Professor, yet he looked remarkably much like a young child as he, now sobbing softly, allowed Minerva to softly stroke his back. And Stern Old McGonagall had once more disappeared.   
  
"Harry- Harry, you don't have to go… It is not because of you… Harry, you don't have to leave!"  
  
Yet, with those words, the seventeen-year old boy released his teacher and despite his tears, determinedly nodded.  
  
"Oh yes I have, Professor. And I will…"  
  
"But what for, Harry?"  
  
"For mum and dad. For Sirius. For the world." was his quick, sincere reply.  
  
Minerva sighed as she sat down again.   
  
"You are brave, Harry Potter, yet I wish you weren't. He does not want you, Harry. He doesn't."  
  
"He does."  
  
"No."  
  
With this, Albus softly coughed as he stood up as well.  
  
"I suggest you come with me to my office, Harry. We will talk about this. Or- no… Yes, go to my office and there wait for me. I am coming."  
  
The boy nodded and with a last, pleading glance left the room. Minerva stood up.  
  
"Albus, you can't let him do this." she then spoke matter-of-factly.  
  
"It's his choice."   
  
"His choice, yes, and it'll be his death as well!"  
  
"I'll go with him."  
  
"You what?"  
  
Abruptly, Minerva turned towards her husband, in his eyes seeking for acknowledgement that her ears had deceived her. But as he averted his gaze, she slapped him right in the face.  
  
"You what, Albus Dumbledore? You are going with him… what? You can't, Albus! You can't! You… you… you… He's only a bloody child!"  
  
"He's not. He's a man."  
  
And as if she'd been expecting that answer, Minerva hollowly laughed.  
  
"He's a man! I will never become a man, Albus, and I am proud of it! So that's it, that's why I can't go out there and fight and he can! Because he's a man?!"  
  
"No, Minerva, because…"  
  
But his wife raised her hand and walked towards the door.  
  
"Shut up, Albus. But I-" she narrowed her eyes and looked at him.   
  
"I'll tell you one thing, Albus, though you already know it. When I told Harry that it wasn't him Voldemort wanted, I spoke the truth. Voldemort doesn't want Harry, not anymore."  
  
And with a bitter, yet almost- triumphant grin, she turned towards her husband once more.  
  
"He wants me…" she said.  
  
And she left the room. 


	8. Powerlessness Or Not

Minerva McGonagall bit her lips and with quite a bang closed the book she had been reading. Or- reading? "The book she'd been staring at" was more like it. But how could she possibly concentrate, when in Albus' office…  
  
She snorted in frustration as she placed the book back in her large bookcase. For heaven's sake. She had always liked- loved- reading, but what was the bloody use of it now? Harry Potter was about to do something which was equal to committing suicide, and she just could not do a thing to stop him. It gave her a feeling of helplessness, and Minerva McGonagall had never been a helpless woman. And she didn't want to become one either.  
  
Especially not now.  
  
Because, despite Albus' famous eloquence, she still was convinced that it was nothing less than her duty to leave the castle, to face Voldemort.  
  
For it was the truth- he wanted her and no-one but her. Lord Voldemort wanted her- because of the still considerable large part of him that formed the boy he'd once been.  
  
Tom Riddle.  
  
Yet, she shook her head and in a sudden desperate gesture hid it in the pillow it had been resting on. She couldn't go. That she realized, more than ever, and yet more than ever she felt a strong longing to leave. Because she wanted to go. And that Albus perhaps didn't understand, but she herself very well did. It wasn't unnatural, not even strange. She had always wanted to face peril straight away instead of hiding for it, and now was no exception.   
  
Even though this perhaps was the greatest peril she would ever have to face.   
  
She did not know why Voldemort wanted her.   
  
She just knew he did.  
  
And someone, of course, would have to fight him.  
  
But would that really be her task?  
  
As she suddenly sat up straight, Minerva realized that it couldn't be her task- it simply couldn't, because of a fact which she very well was aware of. Something was missing in her blood that did flow through the blood of someone else.  
  
And yet she'd rather give her life herself, than to let- him- sacrifice himself. Because he would. In fact, he already was on his way to do it. At this very moment, in that office there, at the end of the corridor. And Albus had always had a certain lack of common sense.  
  
He didn't know everything she knew.  
  
Or perhaps he did, but he didn't feel everything she had felt.   
  
But she was powerless now.  
  
~*~  
  
Or no, she was not!  
  
In a sudden wave of determinedness, Minerva threw the pillow down on her bed and straightened her robes.  
  
She was never powerless, unless she wanted to be! And she certainly didn't want it.  
  
With a new stubbornness in her movements, Minerva McGonagall threw open her window and deeply inhaled the fresh, spring air. Her eyes for once managed to ignore the tents and barriers there below- no, instead she focused on Hagrid's house, which, though now literally located right amidst the Death Eaters, still breathed an air of casualness, of tranquility. Of freedom.   
  
Its inhabitant was "safely" in the castle now, but the house still was there, and for some reason the Death Eaters had not used it a lodgment or a storehouse.  
  
Perhaps even to them the air of goodness of its owner was still too pronouncedly present.  
  
Perhaps. 


	9. Go To Hell

So, with a soft rustle of her robes, Minerva McGonagall left her rooms and resolutely strode towards the office of her husband. Now she was going to speak a few little words with him- and with Harry, for that matter, and then, they soon would realize- she'd make them realize!- that it all was ridiculous. Because it was- it truly was. And it was just what Voldemort wanted. Yes, he did want her, but, as kind of a result thereof, he desperately wanted to kill Harry.  
  
Yet, all efforts were useless without her.   
  
It was not a sudden boost of self-esteem that made Minerva say those words. It was the mere fact- that they were the truth.  
  
Yet, she never spoke those "few little words", because before she could even reach the door, let alone ball her fist and knock on it, it opened and not two, but six, people left the room.  
  
Minerva stood quite dumbfounded. What was supposed to be a private talk between Harry and the Headmaster had apparently been more of a meeting. A meeting of idiotically brave people, she bitterly corrected herself, of people who wanted to give their lives for- as Minerva very well knew- for nothing. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and his sister Ginny, Hermione Granger and last but not least Neville Longbottom. And between them, smiling almost- sheepishly- stood Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Minerva slowly inhaled, then raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Albus?" she said, but the look in her husband's cerulean eyes had already told her what she needed to know. And it, despite herself, shocked her.  
  
"Minerva." he, her husband, spoke. "Minerva- let me, let us explain."   
  
Minerva, though, did not at all plan to "let him explain". She planned on telling him exactly what she thought. But before she could even open her mouth to object, he' already grabbed her shoulder and dragged her inside his office. She surprised herself and didn't protest. So they went into his office- and for some reason, the students followed.  
  
"¨Please sit down, Minerva." Albus muttered, pulling out a chair for her.  
  
Minerva gratefully accepted, a questioning yet angry look in her fiery, green eyes.   
  
"I would indeed like an explanation, Albus." she then, composedly yet coldly said.  
  
"What on earth are you up to?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore sighed and sat down as well, opposite his wife, who now rested her eyebrows on the desk.  
  
"Minerva, we are going, tomorrow. We will fight Voldemort and attempt to break through the Death Eaters's siege." he then spoke; boldly, simply.  
  
Though Minerva had expected to hear these things- not all jammed into one sentence, though!- her jaw dropped nonetheless.   
  
"We?" she managed to mutter, but her eyes shot fire.   
  
Albus nodded, lowering his eyes, not really knowing where to look. Yet, when he looked up again, a sincere light shone from his clear, blue eyes.  
  
"Yes, Minerva- at least- *we*. You will, of course, take over my duties while I am away. I am sorry, Minerva, but Harry, as you know, wants to go and nor I, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley or Mr. Longbottom want to let him go on his own."  
  
Minerva felt her jaw drop once more as thoughts ran through her brain at an incredibly high speed. He couldn't- he couldn't… Merlin, she'd been married to him for forty damn years, and he had always been slightly an idiot, but never, never… And she, *she*; she, who knew the most of this and she who was the actual aim of this goddamn siege, she would be left, "in safety", behind, while they went to sacrifice their damn lives for something which without her didn't even make sense?  
  
As to express her feelings, Minerva McGonagall raised her arms, balled her fists and let them, with all strength left in her frail body, come down on the desk before her with a bang to be proud of.   
  
She didn't say anything, though. She was speechless.   
  
Or- well, almost. Because when the words came, then came alright.  
  
"Albus- Dumbledore!"  
  
Albus slowly, carefully looked up and read the full impact of what he had said in his wife's eyes.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore, have you ever considered that this kind of a heroic act is totally unnecessary and rash, that you're risking the life of children here, that…"  
  
Only Hermione Granger was daring enough to interrupt her teacher's rant.  
  
"We aren't children anymore, Professor."  
  
Minerva cast a glance that would have easily scared a dragon.  
  
"Shut up, Miss Granger. Albus," she turned to her husband again.  
  
"Have you ever considered that all you try is utterly useless? That you're needlessly risking all we have left on our side- namely yourself?  
  
She panted, as if she'd run a long distance. She felt like it as well. It was true what she'd said and he just *had* to realize that as well. He wasn't stupid, after all. Absolutely not, actually.  
  
Albus was still calm, though, and just folded his hands beneath his chin.  
  
"I am aware of all these things, Minerva. But you have to admit that only Harry can fight Voldemort. You cannot ignore that fact."  
  
"Have you told him…" Minerva whispered, trying to get her temper under control but failing horribly. If Albus had told Harry the true reason why Voldemort so desperately wanted to kill him… The two reasons, actually- the reason was a twofold one, one part ancient and one part more recent. A strange coincidence, actually- she'd never really thought of that.   
  
But Albus slowly shook his head.  
  
"I haven't. But you know it and you know what I say is true. And neither you nor I can hold his friends from following him. They are of age, Minerva. And I am sorry you cannot accompany them, Minerva, but Hogwarts needs a leader and that leader are you."  
  
His soft, soothing voice sounded so logical, so sincere, that Minerva was out of objections. But that didn't mean she agreed. She knew he was wrong. She knew it.   
  
So she proudly stood up, straightened her back, looked him straight into the eye and hissed  
  
"Go then, Albus. Go then. Go to hell."  
  
With this, she slammed the door shut, ran towards her room and locked it with a quick spell.  
  
There, Professor Minerva McGonagall fell down on her bed and cried. 


	10. One More Time

How could he do this to her? How *could* he?   
  
That was the only thought in Minerva's mind as she felt fresh tears drip off her cheeks. How could he do this to her? She, who had perhaps suffered more than anyone else had. She had never wanted to admit it- never allowed herself to admit it, but she knew it was true. She had suffered, all those long years- and every time, every single time she had felt happiness, there had also, always, been a feeling of pain.   
  
Bittersweet.   
  
Bittersweet, that her life had been.   
  
But it had been her destiny, hadn't it?  
  
Through long blood lines, generations, era's of the world, this fate had been destined for her.   
  
She knew it. She'd known it since the moment she had had her first History of Magic-lesson. Attentive as she always had been, her strange fascination for the subject of that lesson- the Founders, namely- had immediately lead her to the Library.  
  
There, she had opened a book- an old, shabby book, and she had read.  
  
And she'd looked straight into the eyes of- of her.   
  
She had known it then.  
  
And now he didn't want her to fulfill that destiny? He, who very well knew about it. He, who knew about it- because he was damn part of it…  
  
She leant her head face down on her pillow and just bit it. She bit a pillow so as not to bite her lips. And so as not to bite Albus, in fact, she thought grimly.   
  
It was on that moment the subject of her anger knocked on the door.  
  
Minerva startled and, as she realized whose very typical knock it was, felt her temper rise at an incredibly high speed. Yet, though with the greatest difficulty, she controlled herself and sat down again on her bed, facing the wall opposite the door.  
  
"Come in." she spoke flatly, and as she heard the door open, she closed her eyes. It was him- it had to be him. After more than forty years' marriage, she did recognize her husband's footsteps when she heard them.  
  
"Minerva?"  
  
She felt her hand on her shoulder and shivered.  
  
"Leave me, Albus." Minerva sharply snapped, desperately trying *not* to turn around.   
  
"Don't make things worse."  
  
She heard his light, though not entirely meant chuckle, as he removed his hand.  
  
"Can things than get worse, Minerva?"  
  
His voice was soft- soft and hurt, and despite herself, Minerva slightly sobbed as she answered.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I am sorry, Minerva."  
  
He sounded so sincere, so truly- sad… Yet, Minerva remarked- hard, perhaps, but true  
  
"It is easy to say you are sorry, Albus. You will go without me. Have you any idea, Albus, have you just the faintest idea about all the things that happened, all those years ago? I hated and I loved, Albus, and in a way, I still do. And you know that, Albus!"  
  
She felt her voice slip and slowly inhaled before continuing.  
  
"You know that, Albus, and yet you part without me. Don't, Albus. Listen to the plea of a woman who has been through a lot, and don't go. He hates you, Albus, he hates you more than anyone- because of reasons which you very well are aware of. Tom is dangerous, Albus, he has always been- but now he is more than ever. Let me go with you!"  
  
The last words had come out very much like a desperate plea- and that by she-who-never-begged.   
  
Yet Albus shook her head- she couldn't see it, but she felt it, and muttered  
  
"I won't, Minerva."  
  
"Then go."  
  
Her words sounded like lashes… but to her own great frustration, she felt she could never mean them.   
  
He knew that as well.   
  
He knew her far too well.  
  
She heard the bed make a creaking noise as he sat down behind her, she heard his soft, slow breath as he carefully laid his arms around her neck.  
  
"Albus- take me with you…"  
  
She felt herself surrender.  
  
He softly kissed her cheekbone.  
  
"I cannot, Minerva. Hogwarts needs a leader- and… and I cannot risk you."  
  
"Tom will not hurt me."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
Yes- how did she know?   
  
"I just know." came her stubborn reply, and she heard Albus sigh, still refusing to look him in the eye.   
  
"You cannot know."  
  
But now she did turn around. As Minerva and Albus sat opposite each other on top of the emerald sheets, Minerva hissed  
  
"I do know Tom Marvolo Riddle, Albus. And you cannot stop me to come after you if I want!"  
  
It was a threat, she knew, but she was very surprised indeed when Albus encircled her waist with both his arms, pulled her closer and smiled.  
  
"That is true, Minerva. That I indeed can't. But do understand I need you here, now, at least a few days after our leave. And I can ask you to stay here, because I love you. I can beg you to stay here, but I cannot make you stay."  
  
He leant forward and Minerva slightly smiled as she saw the famous twinkle in the sapphire eyes.   
  
"But don't be angry with me as I go, Minerva. I will not go if you tell me not to. If we have to part on such terms, I'd rather not. Now let us be together just one more time, Minerva. Let us one more time forget the world."  
  
He raised his hands and cupped her face. She felt her lips smile and didn't even scold them.  
  
As her lips met his, she surrendered. 


	11. The Shadow of the Past

"Minerva?"  
  
"Mmmh…"  
  
Minerva McGonagall did not even open her eyes as her husband's whispering ear lightly touched her ear. Normally, she'd be up and about in less than a minute, running to the bathroom in order to have some spare time left to correct some extra homework, but not this time. This time, she found herself rolling over in her bed once more, snuggling closer to her husband's chest. She heard him chuckle and felt his arms creep around her waist once more. Contentedly, she slowly inhaled his so familiar scent and smiled. Lemon drops and chocolate. Of course.  
  
She adored lemon drops and chocolate.  
  
Minerva felt the tender grip of his arms around her tighten, yet then, her body suddenly rolled over on the strangely empty bed half beside her. Albus had slid out of bed, and she groaned.  
  
But the phase of half-sleep she still was in soon claimed her again…  
  
====================  
  
Only two hours later the very first ray of a warm, spring sun touched Minerva's cheek, and the vigilant, green eyes immediately fluttered open as she became aware of the still empty spot beside her. She vaguely recalled something about the events of earlier in the morning- but she could as well have dreamt them, actually. An obviously quickly scribbled note on her bedside table proved her wrong, though…  
  
"My love above everything," it began- and Minerva snorted. Flattery had never got him anywhere, and nor would it now. Yet she knew very well how he meant it- and that thought made her smile fondly, despite herself and her somewhat… harsh feelings of lately.  
  
"I am sorry to leave you so soon, but last night, I believed, has proven that there is nothing I value more than you."  
  
It was the very first time a note had made cool, under-control Minerva blush.  
  
"But, my dear, I have got some things yet to arrange with Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Ginny, so I unfortunately had to leave you so soon. I should perhaps have told you instead of leaving such an unsatisfactory note, but I imagine you were still asleep for the most part- I am sorry not to wake you, but you looked so beautiful…"  
  
It was the second time a note had made cool, under-control Minerva blush…  
  
"So I decided not to wake you. When you wake up, though, please come and see me in my office. We need you, my Minnie.  
  
Love always,   
  
Albus"  
  
"How he always managed to make me smile is beyond me…" Minerva muttered out loud. She did not even frown at his casual use of that ever-despised childhood nickname of hers… Minnie… Yes, how he always managed to make her smile…?   
  
She grinned, though, as a little voice inside her head remarked  
  
"Perhaps that's why you married him in the first place, you silly!"  
  
Yes, perhaps that was why she'd married him, all those years ago. But a shadow came over her face as she remembered that had not been the only reason. The shadow of the past. For the other reason, the ancient, the foretold- oh, what a thoroughly Sybill Trelawney word to use!- reason was beyond her, or him, or their feelings. The other reason had been there years before she, or even he, had been born.   
  
She had tried to fight it, she recalled. She wasn't the person for prophecies, for "fate", for things one couldn't change. But soon had that younger, more idealistic Minerva McGonagall realized, that she couldn't change her love for her Albus. She could not change love  
  
She could not change "Odi et Amo".  
  
She could not change "I hate and I love".  
  
====================  
  
Less than half an hour later, a fully dressed Minerva, her hair pulled back neatly into the plait she'd become accustomed with, banged her fist and knocked, surprisingly soft, on the dark, ebony wooden door of the Headmaster's office.   
  
"Albus?"  
  
She felt the door magically open under her touch as he recalled  
  
"Come in, Minerva…"  
  
As she obeyed and stepped in, she felt her relaxed features tense again. There stood, fully dressed and all wearing a small bag, the five children who would- who would do the thing she wasn't allowed to. And the strange feeling inside her stomach was not jealousy- oh no certainly it wasn't. Or yes, perhaps it was to a certain degree, but even stronger was her urge to protect her students- her cubs, as she had secretly nicknamed them long ago. And for the first time, also guilt darkened her mind.  
  
It was her fault. Wasn't it?  
  
Wasn't it?  
  
No, it was not.  
  
It was nobody's fault. It was fate's fault.   
  
It was all meant to be.  
  
Even- and that she'd only just realized- the fact that the Death Eaters had not yet used Hagrid's hut for one of their foul purposes. As she had opened one of the oldest books she possessed, she had remembered…   
  
But that did not matter now. With a soft clearing of her throat she looked up to Albus.  
  
"What do you need me for now, Albus?"  
  
And he did explain. Minerva's jaw dropped more and more as he told her what sounded the most like a weak Disney movie for mentally ill puffskeins…   
  
"Wait…"   
  
She managed to keep her voice stable as she raised a hand.  
  
"Are you telling me that you- that you need me to change these four kids into…"  
  
"Into mice, yes, my dear?"  
  
Minerva rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh yes, and then- wait, what did you say again? Oh yes, then you change into your owl Animagus form, then we shrink their bags all except one, which we bind around your n- actually, do owls have necks? Anyway, then I cast an Invisibility charm and you fly off to Hagrid's hut. Have I understood that correctly?"  
  
She was almost fuming- well, in fact she was. When he nodded, she thought she'd explode.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore, this is life! Hello? Earth to Albus? This is life, not some bloody Disney cartoon! This is not bloody "Mickey and Minnie's Sunday Adventure"!!!"  
  
She should not have said that… He had always liked that strange similarity of names between her and that certain Muggle cartoon figure… The mouse and the cat… Damn, she was stupid.  
  
But to her great surprise he remained serious. The ever-present twinkles in his eyes even faded for a moment. Which, come to think of it, was a pity…  
  
"Minerva," he began, much softer that she'd expected him to.   
  
"please just do it."  
  
He slowly raised his hand and, to the obviously great surprise of the five students present, tenderly stroked a strand of raven black hair away from her face.  
  
"I know it is a stupid idea. I know how foolish it sounds, but I truly cannot think of another way to do it. Help me, Minerva. I need you."  
  
When he bowed over and pressed a last, small kiss on her lips, Minerva could not do anything but nod. Too surprised she was and, in a way, also too happy.   
  
She knew the reasons for which their marriage had always had to be kept a secret- she knew them better than anyone else, in fact!- but somehow, her heart had sometimes screamed to let it all out… because it was so difficult to remain the true, professional sidekick when the object of your sidekick-ness was the man you loved and who loved you.   
  
She literally heard the student's respective jaws drop, and when Ginny Weasley audibly nudged her brother and mouthed "Told you so!", Minerva's smile broke through and she nodded once more.  
  
I need you too, Albus. 


	12. Meant To Be

So Minerva raised her wand and, as her eyes met the begging blue ones of her husband, sighed.  
  
"Muribus Animadverto!"   
  
The spell cast by her mahogany wand hit the five teenagers immediately- natural Transfiguration talent she was- and where the little group had stood nowvcrawled five little mice around both her and the Headmaster's feet. Two of the mice had notably more reddish fur than the others, and despite herself. Minerva faintly smiled. Ever the Weasleys, weren't they?   
  
Oh damn, Molly.   
  
If Molly Weasley ever found out that Minerva had given her permission to Ginny and Ron to do what they were about to do, then Minerva knew she would be one dead woman indeed. But, as she read the eagerness in the small, beady eyes of the largest mouse- which, she presumed, was Ronald Weasley- she sighed and inwardly shrugged her shoulders. It was too late now anyway. And after all, the boy was of age, and Molly herself probably knew very well that one did not lightly refuse something to her only daughter.  
  
Yes, Minerva slowly summarized, more to convince herself than to actually make a point. It was too late anyway.  
  
As the five mice were gathered together and carefully placed into an owl carrier bag, Minerva sighed and slowly closed it behind the tail of the last mouse, a brown one which she assumed to be Hermione. As she took up the bag, her slightly hesitant gaze turned towards the Headmaster, whose slight curled mouth sent her a not-so-reassuring smile.   
  
"Minerva," he began, as she impulsively stepped towards her employer and husband. He obviously expected some kind of last plea, some kind of reproach even, but what he did not at all expect was exactly the thing she did.   
  
Minerva McGonagall opened her mouth, closed it again, then lowered her eyes and stumbled straight into his arms. It was such an out-of-character thing to do for her, but Albus knew better than to ask questions.   
  
He just rested his chin atop of her raven-haired head and closed his eyes as, after some very silent moments, her voice, slightly muffled and half-broken, remarked  
  
"Albus Dumbledore- get yourself killed and I will kill you with my bare hands…"  
  
This was such a very typical, Minerva thing to say, that Albus couldn't oppress a deep, slight chuckle to arise in his throat. Minerva, whose ear rested against his chest, heard it rumble through his chest and smiled, despite the tears that to her great embarrassment had popped into her eyes.  
  
As Albus softly tilted up her head, though, her tears disappeared as if by magic.  
  
"I wouldn't dare, my love. I wouldn't dare."  
  
Minerva smiled as his lips captured hers once more, but as soon as their eyes opened and met again, she couldn't restrain the worry she knew was shining from them.  
  
"Albus, you know what I know." she then began, and he nodded.  
  
"Remember those things, my love."   
  
Pondering for a moment, Minerva paused, then went on.  
  
"I have never been one for Divination, Albus. Never been one for things "meant to be", and never been one to believe what her own eyes couldn't prove to her. When I found out about the prophecy that was to rule my life, I was convinced not to let it."  
  
She sighed as she lowered her eyes and slowly, reluctantly, stepped back from her husband's embrace.  
  
"I have been proven wrong, my love. It is hard to face it, but I have to and I have never been a coward, so I will face it. I have tried to fight it- you know that- but I couldn't. I couldn't, Albus- and this, my love, is then, finally, the great acknowledgment of Minerva Jean McGonagall's life…"  
  
She allowed her voice to trail off for a moment as her deep, emerald eyes caught the radiant blue ones of the man before her.  
  
"Some things are meant to come to pass, Albus. Some things are. I've learnt that. And one cannot change them."  
  
As her husband gravely nodded, Minerva knew the time to go had come.  
  
"Now go, Albus. Go and make something of it."  
  
He nodded once more and then, there, before Minerva McGonagall's eyes, the Headmaster of Hogwarts completed the Transfiguration she'd seen him do so many times before.  
  
When a large, white barn owl with ever-observant, blue-ish eyes sat before her, Minerva allowed herself one more, small smile. With a careful, yet firm gesture, she adjusted the large bag, containing the – already quite impatient, according to the noises! - mice and Albus's wand, around the animal's neck.   
  
As she threw the Invisibility cloak around it and cast a Sticking Charm, she for the first time fully realized what she was doing.   
  
Because, she knew, as the owl who was her husband apparently raised itself high into the air and left through the window, this was it.  
  
The dice was cast now.  
  
And, looking out of the window, eyes searching in vain for the invisible owl, she muttered the words that had become the motto of her life  
  
"No, one cannot change them, Albus. But one can fight them." 


	13. A Revelation

As the invisible barn owl had reached the- still unlocked- door to the hut that had previously belonged to generations of Housekeepers, and had managed to push it open, he entered. For some reason, the Death Eaters' army had made its camp considerably far away from the house- for some reason which Albus Dumbledore was very well aware of and on which he'd counted while making his plans.   
  
As slowly, he felt his body turn back to just that- his body- he allowed Minerva's Invisibility Cloak to slide off. Normally, he could make himself invisible whenever he wanted, but the Transfigured students in the bag still hanging round his neck and resting against his chest, had made his wife's Cloak necessary.  
  
"Finite Incantatum" was the short spell he muttered as soon as the mice came crawlingout of the bag, and before long, the small hut suddenly seemed terribly full.   
  
Ginevra Weasley was the first one to speak up, in that light, calm tone that was entirely her own.  
  
"Thank God we are here- a moment longer in that warmth and I'd have thrown up right away."  
  
Her brother grinned, looking positively flustered too.  
  
"Yeah well- so thank God indeed Gin!"  
  
Harry Potter was the first to address the Headmaster, though, and the first one to force a serious expression on his face after the rather funny escape from the castle.  
  
"Now what do we do, Professor? I can imagine we're not exactly "safe" over here, are we? Will we attack Voldemort right away?"  
  
The spoken out name of the Dark Lord made the other four kids wince- Hermione Granger immediately conquered her fear of the name, though.  
  
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore- Harry's right. What if V-Voldemort finds out we're here and decides to attack before we're prepared?"  
  
Albus had to oppress a slight smile at her faint stammering whilst pronouncing the name of he who was so adequately called "He Who Must Not Be Named". It was a strange fact indeed, why did Hermione Granger, a muggleborn and the smartest witch of her year on top of it, still feel fear at the mentioning of a mere name? But then again, even his very own Minerva winced at that name- though that had, of course, a totally different reason and was almost acceptable. Yet.  
  
Fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself, he'd told them a thousand times before.   
  
But, Albus reminded himself as the rather inquiring gazes of Ronald and Ginevra met his own, a question had been asked here- a question which he above all persons was very fit to answer.  
  
He sighed, though. It was an old story to be told.  
  
"He will not do that, Miss Granger."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows in a polite, yet very much- "Minerva"- gesture, and despite himself, he fondly smiled. No, Hermione, this tale was not in "Hogwarts, A History"… It was in the library, somewhere, though- but then again even Hermione Granger had not read every single book Hogwarts' School for Witchcraft and Wizardry possessed.  
  
"That is an ancient story of history, Hermione- and by the way, this goes for all of you- so please sit down somewhere while I tell it."  
  
Their attention now officially caught, the five teenagers found their seats on Rubeus Hagrid's former bed, and stared at their Headmaster in expectation. Albus, too, sat down and smiled a weary smile.  
  
"What I am going to tell," he then began, thoughtfully, still wondering how much he would tell them. The minimum, he then decided. Some things were not his to tell.  
  
"…is a very obscure and hidden part of wizarding- and Hogwarts, for that matter- history. It goes back to the era of the Founders of the school, now more than thousand years ago. You have heard of them, of course- Professor Binns has probably dedicated many an interesting lesson to them…"  
  
He chuckled lightly as the students- especially Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom- smiled sheepishly, and young Miss Weasley softly cleared her throat.  
  
"And yes, I do know you probably have not followed all our dear Professor's lessons with the same amount of interest…"  
  
Understatement of the year.  
  
"… but you of course do know the names and such of these four genial people. Because, though they were entirely different and not every deed of every one of them may have been a honourable one- no-one can deny that they were, each in their way, geniuses. They fought amongst them, though, for even geniuses are human, and ultimately, they even arrived at a point of war…"  
  
"Oh yes, I have read a book on it!"  
  
Hermione Granger- naturally-, and Albus cast the girl an affectionate glance.  
  
"Have you, Miss Granger- well, then you perhaps do remember what was the outcome of this war?"  
  
Hermione frantically nodded.  
  
"Oh sure I do- Sir. It came to an ultimate fight of Gryffindor and Slytherin."  
  
"And who won?"  
  
"Gryffindor did- although he left his life for it. Salazar Slytherin managed to hex him to dead, but was then driven away by an army lead by Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. Some say so, at least. Others report that he fled, sick of guilt at the murder of the man who had once been a friend and ally of his. We do not know for sure."  
  
The Headmaster smiled once more, then nodded and gravely addressed all five of the students.  
  
"What Miss Granger has told is the utmost truth, but what she didn't tell and what is scarce and very secret knowledge is the mere mentioning of the exact place of where this happened."  
  
"Here…" Hermione Granger whispered, and got an admiring glance from Ron Weasley in exchange.  
  
Albus nodded.  
  
"Right here. This place, on which was later erected this small hut, is the exact death place of the bravest of the Four. And, after his death, Rowena Ravenclaw, his wife, cast a spell over this place, so as to somehow revenge and honour her late husband at the same time. This place was made an asylum, namely, for all of his and her ancestry in the ages to come. Rowena carried Godric's unborn child at the time of the murder- she did this in case Salazar would later return and attempt to kill the daughter she would give life, or her sons or daughters through ages of the world. That spell still remains, even now, when Rowena and her daughter, Roderica, have since long passed away. And to this day, the blood of Gryffindor still lives on."  
  
A short silence fell. Then, Neville Longbottom spoke his very first words of the day. His honest, brown eyes very big, he asked  
  
"And who is that Heir of Gryffindor, Professor? Do you know who it is?"  
  
Albus smiled once more, but another smile, this time- an ancient smile.  
  
"Yes, Neville, I do."  
  
He hesitated for a moment, allowing the expectation in the young faces before him to grow to a peak.  
  
"It is me." 


	14. The Eagle

A room made for two doesn't fit for one alone. That was the first, coherent thought to leap into Minerva McGonagall's mind when she, after another long day of voluntary Defence Against The Dark Arts and Transfiguration classes, entered her own, usually so welcoming rooms again. Their own, usually so welcoming rooms, that was. Because every day, as classes had ended and students and teachers alike retreated in more private quarters, Minerva too would push open the large, familiar door, leading to the only chambers where she be exactly whom she was- Mrs. Dumbledore, no-one less nor no-one more. She then, usually would be welcomed by the very common, yet ever comforting sight of her husband- who almost always got "home" earlier than she did- sitting in his favourite chair, a mostly both old and thick book resting on his lap. But of course, as soon as he caught sight of her, he would- ever the gentleman- immediately close the no-matter-how-interesting book and rise from his chair, gently taking away the books, quills and all other possible artefacts she was carrying.  
  
He would hold her, then- sometimes for just a moment, other times, according to both their needs of comfort-, somewhat longer- until slight, contented smiles were fixed on both their faces and her own "stern old McGonagall"-attitude had more than half worn off. Their embraces had, though, grown more and more desperate with every passing month, week, day.  
  
But he was gone.  
  
And Minerva could hardly suppress a sincere sigh as she, with quite a bang indeed, rested the as ever huge amount of books she'd needed for her classes on her dark-mahogany wooden desk. She was not really the person for sighs and complaints, though, so she bit her lips and grabbed a quill instead. Only mere seconds later, she realized what she was doing and immediately threw it down in disgust.  
  
Because imagine, just imagine, she thought, what her students would think if they ever found out what was the most horrible but one secret of their prim Transfiguration teacher. If they ever found out that Professor Minerva Jean McGonagall… chewed on the end of her quills.  
  
Minerva shook her head in horror. It was perhaps ridiculous, but it was as she'd once- it seemed so long ago now!- told Albus… As long as she stayed Stern Old McGonagall, prim, prude, strict and unstained, as long as she stayed that almost- caricature of herself she had through long years of teaching learnt to maintain, as long as that illusion lived among the students, the world of bitter imagination they and the magical society had built around themselves would remain untouched. And if this was the price she had to pay- well then yes, it was.  
  
Minerva McGonagall had never been the person to spare herself.  
  
And when the bell for dinner rang through the corridors, some time later, Minerva stood up, straightened her robes and adjusted The Bun- the simple hairdo that was more than just that, the simple hairdo that had quite automatically become a symbol of a lifestyle.   
  
Only then her gaze fell on what she had seen so many times before. The large Gryffindor crest, decorating the wall above the large sofa- Albus himself had attached it there, so many years earlier.   
  
Minerva sighed at the Snake, nodded at the Badger, smiled broadly, proudly at the Lion, but only one symbol did she touch.  
  
It was the one of the Eagle. 


	15. A Risk, Taken Together

The next morning brought no comfort- not that Minerva had but for one moment expected it to. The second night in a row she had spent sleepless- lying awake, tossing and turning until sheer irritation had caused her to get up prematurely at 4 o'clock. There she'd sat, her long, white cotton nightgown chastely covered by her dark red peignoir, head resting on one hand, eyes trying to decipher a handwriting she was sure she didn't want to decipher. And after all- as if it mattered now!  
  
So, with a bang, echoing hollowly through the seemingly quiet night, the to-correct drawer was closed and Minerva found herself once more awake, worried and bored in the middle of the night.   
  
Her eyes wandered through the room, from the large four-poster bed for two she'd just left, to the terribly- empty chair of her husband… from the book-shelves above it to the moving picture right before her, standing atop of her desk as it had stood there years and years. The couple on it waved at Minerva, and she couldn't hold back a fond smile to enfold on her lips. It was a small picture, true, and yet it was so big at the same time. The two, small figures formed a handsome couple.   
  
The shortest of them- a woman- had beautiful; dark green eyes, a deep creamy-white skin and a mass of wavy, raven-black hair tumbling down her back. Her slender figure was accentuated by the simple dress she wore- light and white, with a tight, embroidered bodice and a very wide skirt, falling down in many layers around her obviously long legs. She was held close by the other figure, a man, clearly older than his bride, but still very handsome indeed. He had deep-auburn hair and a short beard, the same colour. He was thin and yet in a way muscular, his dark purple robes falling down straight to his leather-booted feet. The most remarkable thing, though, were his eyes- large, ever-smiling, twinkling blue eyes, the colour of sapphires, the sky and so many more things.  
  
Both figures were smiling broadly, happily, and though they appeared to look at Minerva, the witch knew very well their eyes were, in fact, fixed on the other's, wanting to lock forever and never let go.  
  
Only with a discontented sigh Minerva took, reluctantly, a step back, returning out of the fairytale world a much younger Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore had created for themselves, so many years before.   
  
It was over now. Or no- it wasn't over yet, but it was all so frail, so easily destructible, that Minerva knew she couldn't allow herself to hope. Hope was a false friend, long year has taught her, and now wasn't the time for false friends. God no- it wasn't.  
  
Minerva shook her head as she replaced the photograph to its usual place, biting her lower lip so as not to even blink. Sentimental rubbish, she kept on reminding herself as she, peignoir clenched tightly round her still frail shoulders, stumbled back towards the bed.   
  
And there was no time for feelings, she muttered almost out loud as her raven head hit her pillow. Afterwards, perhaps, yes. Her eyelids closed.  
  
Now, no.   
  
=======  
  
The sunlight already brightened up the room as Minerva McGonagall opened her eyes again. Half past seven. She had, finally, slept some hours- the deep, dreamless sleep she'd longed for. And yet it had not brought her comfort, or peace with the situation as it was. It certainly hadn't- and that, she knew, was out of worry, but not out of the kind of worry a wife felt for her husband.   
  
Oh yes- surely she thought about Albus's fate- surely she wished with all her heart that he wouldn't hurt. But she was used to that. She'd experienced that through years and years, from time to time. For that was what her, their, marriage had always been, after all- a risk, taken together.   
  
And that it would stay- until the blissful day when Tom Riddle and the prophecy that had always overshadowed their life together would finally be gone. If that day ever came, that was. She was- had always been- realistic enough to realize that it was a slim chance, the chance that both she and the man she loved- Albus- would survive.  
  
But there was a chance, she kept reminding herself as she, at exactly 8 o'clock, entered the Great Hall and quietly sat down in the large chair- Albus's chair- which she always occupied while he was absent.  
  
What bothered her the most, she summarized, stuffing eggs-and-bacon into her mouth, was the fact that Albus alone could never do it. Even with Harry beside him he couldn't. Because through all its vagueness, the legend- prophecy, as she had so correctly recognized it- had been clear enough on that point. Not solitude- even a well-meant, protective one like Albus's- was the solution.   
  
Unity was.  
  
And even "brave knights", like Albus, who wanted to shield their "damsel in distress" , which- she snorted!- she supposed she was, couldn't achieve unity on their own.   
  
Plus; her role was perhaps the most important of all.  
  
Like Hers had been before.  
  
She sighed. Something had to be done.  
  
The Great Hall was silent- something that had, truly, never happened before. Everyone's courage was slowly but certainly slipping away… and the worst thing of all was; it was only understandable. This was the youth of today, children who's grown up with both the memory and the threat of Voldemort.  
  
Of course their courage was slipping away.  
  
Minerva herself sighed once more at the many, empty spots at the Slytherin Table. Almost all students- the older ones, mostly- had left it, had left Hogwarts, to join their parents, to join Him whom they really believed in. Minerva slightly felt they had deceived Albus, abused the trust he'd put in them.  
  
But she knew that was not fair. Because frankly, what else were these children than mere toys in their parents' hands, grown up to succeed them, almost breastfed with Voldemort's poison. Even Draco Malfoy- who was, honestly, the most irritating little prat in the world…  
  
But it was possible to revolt. That was clearly shown in the lone, tall figure at the end of the table. Minerva felt a sudden, strange pride fill her heart as the dark, green eyes in the pale, serious face met hers and Blaise Zabini nodded with a faint smile.  
  
Ha, there she sat, then, the daughter of a Death Eater, the girl who'd grown up between people who'd called Minerva "the whore of Dumbledore"… and yet she had stayed when all others went.  
  
For a moment, Minerva felt truly happy- she knew this girl could serve as an excellent example to many, and she also knew that her presence was the only thing that kept Severus Snape- now occupying her usual place- from getting entirely depressed. But the empty places at Gryffindor Table and most of all, the thought of the man whose chair she was sitting in, made her frown again.  
  
The large, Hogwarts crest that decorated the wall, accompanied by the grave expressions on the faces of all convinced her.  
  
Today was the day. 


	16. Blissful Madness

"Today is the day, children."   
  
Albus Dumbledore was the first one to speak up, as the six people in the Hut of Hagrid started to wake up after a mostly sleepless night. Only Ron had, according to his snoring, slept well- but that meant nothing because, as Hermione had snorted "Ron's able to fall asleep on the back of a flying dragon!". The other five had lain awake, though. Even Albus, who knew better than anybody else that the Death Eaters could not possibly attack them here, had found himself lying awake, staring at the wooden roof of the hut, his head aching- thinking.  
  
There was one image, one image that had kept popping up inside his head. It was the one of Minerva, how she'd stood there, as he flew away with the children. Her fists clenched tightly around the windowsill, her knuckles white. Her eyes big and greener than ever, her cheeks stained by the few tears she'd allowed herself to cry.  
  
Her mouth one, straight pink line.  
  
Minerva, strong and controlled as ever, but ultimately disagreeing with his decision and he knew it.  
  
He felt bad about it, although he hardly dared to admit it even to himself.  
  
They had always been a team- together, they'd faced Dark Lords and wars, they'd lived over forty years with each other. They knew that every day could be their last- that was the sort of life they'd lead- so they had made the best out of every single moment. Yes, their life had been a risk- a glorious risk. There had been dangers, true, but that exactly was the core of their happiness.  
  
The pride of being happy together- through prophecies, through wars, through difficulties.  
  
When he'd asked her to marry him, long ago, they had both known that it had been a decision of blissful madness.   
  
They loved blissful madness.  
  
And they loved each other.  
  
But it was exactly because of that love, the one, only love of his life, that he felt bad now. He had left her behind. For her own safety, perhaps- but that was no excuse, at least not for Minerva Jean McGonagall- not for Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom and War, who was as intelligent as she was brave and the other way round.  
  
Of all this did Albus think as he spoke those words  
  
"Children, today is the day."  
  
For it was- it really was. Now or never- never or now. He still felt bad because of Minerva- but regret, he had learnt, was useless. So he smiled at the children- a weary but brave smile- and explained  
  
"We'll attack them- today, this morning. Remember, surprise is our ally now. They don't know we are here. But whatever happens- this is the end of it all. Whether it'll be for Him or for us, that I don't know."  
  
He looked at the children- young adults- before him. Could he really let them risk their lives here? They were frightened- he could see it. It was only normal. But in the way Harry's jaw was set, in the way Ginny's brown eyes dangerously blinked, in the way Ron looked at Hermione and the other way round- but perhaps the most in the way Neville Longbotton slowly, very slowly, swallowed, Albus read determination.  
  
They were young, but they knew they were needed.  
  
=====  
  
"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled as Albus made the Hut door explode by one quick swish of his wand. The unknown, single Death Eater that had been guarding it looked as if he'd just swallowed his own tongue.  
  
"Stupefy!" Ginny Weasley added, her voice shaking but clear- and all of a sudden the man was lying on the slightly wet grass, the shocked expression still fixed on his pale face.   
  
All of a sudden, Albus was touched by the strange quiet of the situation. They had just attacked a Death Eater- they had just started The Final Battle- and yet everything felt so strangely calm, so peaceful, almost as if it all didn't matter after all.  
  
But it did matter, and far away, loud cries awoke the six people out of their almost-dream.  
  
"ALARM! Alarm, Milord, alarm!"  
  
They saw a young man with light blonde hair, who'd apparently been hidden close to the Hut, run over to the tents, waving his arms and yelling.  
  
Harry knew who it was as soon as the very first ray of sunlight touched that- almost silvery hair. He raised his wand- but the cool hand of his Headmaster's on his arm stopped him.  
  
"Don't, Harry. They've heard him anyway. Let Draco Malfoy for one last time revel in his own cowardice.   
  
Harry narrowed his eyes and looked up at his Headmaster- but the earnest look in the wise, blue eyes calmed him down and he nodded.  
  
"Good, Professor. His time will come later, then."  
  
Albus almost smiled as he heard that so well-known determination in the young man's voice and rested his hand on the boy's shoulder.  
  
"It will, Harry. Be sure of that- it are the cowards who fall the first."  
  
"What will we do, now, Professor?" came the ever-practical voice of Hermione Granger, who'd just come out of the Hut.  
  
Albus turned around to her and the other three teenagers. With a weary look at the already stirring tents, he said  
  
"We will stay here and fight here, Hermione. It is the safest- we need the Hut. When someone gets wounded, bring him here. The place will protect you, even though we aren't all descendants of Gryffindor. The time has come where every enemy of the Dark Lord can count on Rowena Ravenclaw's protection."  
  
As he'd said this, his attention was turned away from the students.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" called out Lucius Malfoy, who apparently led the first squad of Death Eaters.  
  
It was the start of a long fight- and a difficult one, the six "warriors" realized.  
  
=====  
  
It was only two hours later, as the sun shone brightly above the lawns of Hogwarts, as the grass was already covered in broken wands and glass- and in broken bodies, even-, that the one event happened which all, perhaps, had been able to see if they'd looked up.  
  
But no-one saw it.  
  
No-one noticed a small, sleek grey tabby jump out of a first-floor Hogwarts window. 


	17. An Ancient Story Revealed

It was an uneven battle. That Albus realized as he ran to and fro, trying to protect the children as much as he could whilst trying to cast as many curses as possible. He was breathing heavily- a cut in his right cheek had stained his deep red robes with brownish blood. He did his best- he knew he could not possibly run faster or cast quicker- but he also know that it was not enough.  
  
And when, after perhaps two hours of constant, desperate battle, the door of the biggest tent opened and a tall, cloaked figure came out, he couldn't suppress a sigh.  
  
Voldemort.  
  
Taller than ever, paler than ever, more triumphant than ever. He had gotten his body back three years earlier- and vaguely, very vaguely, Albus recognized in those cold, brown-reddish eyes something of the young boy he had once taught. As a broad, snake-like grin enfolded on his lips, he knew that it wasn't Tom Riddle, though. It was Lord Voldemort.  
  
And that was an important difference.  
  
Behind Voldemort stood a tall, womanly figure. Her long, black, hair fell down her back, over her long, grey dress. She looked older than the last time he'd seen her- and much, much older than the student he had once thought, but she was still considerably pretty and Albus recognized her immediately. Bellatrix Lestrange-Black.   
  
Albus saw them- but he was too far away for them to notice, and with horror he saw them, slowly, walk closer to the spot where Harry was fighting for his life with a tall Death Eater- Lucius Malfoy, to be more exact.  
  
He knew he could run and try to save him- but he also knew that it would be useless. An Avada Kedavra spell was still quicker than a running man…  
  
"Avada…"  
  
Albus heard it- didn't want to hear it, but he did, and started running despite his previous thoughts. Not Harry… never Harry!  
  
"Ked…"  
  
But a voice, a very familiar, well-known, low but pleasant voice interrupted him. Her Scottish brogue was obvious, and Albus didn't have to look up to realize who it was.  
  
"Tom, stop bothering an innocent child. Here stands the one you've been wanting all along."  
  
Albus was frozen, though, and out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Voldemort had the very same reaction. The battlefield was suddenly unusually quiet- as all, almost automatically, looked up, and saw…  
  
There, standing on the low roof of Hagrid's hut, a dark green cloak around her and her long, black, loose hair billowing in the wind, stood no-one less than Minerva Jean McGonagall.  
  
But not all immediately realized that. Voldemort did, and Albus did, and the students did but, according to Hermione Granger's short, sharp cry, they also realized something else- and it was for that reason, that some of the Death Eaters looked as if they had just seen a ghost.  
  
For in a way, they had.  
  
There were many portraits of the Founders of Hogwarts, many painters had used them as a source of inspiration, but not one of them had ever found as good a model as Minerva McGonagall would have been. Because- though no-one else before had really realized it…  
  
Rowena Ravenclaw was standing atop of Hagrid's Hut.  
  
The Dark Lord was the first one to speak.  
  
"M- Minerva?" he uttered, voice still overflowing with self-confidence and yet not quite veiling his surprise.   
  
The woman on the rooftop- Minerva and Rowena in one- mockingly arched her dark eyebrows.  
  
She laughed a bitter laugh as she threw her cloak away. She was wearing a dark blue dress, long, with a very wide skirt. A medieval dress.   
  
"Yes, Tom, Minerva. Are you surprised to see me? Well, you should be glad- you came to get me and here I am. Catch me if you can."  
  
Albus closed his eyes for a moment as he, protectively, rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. Why did she have to be so damn- brave?  
  
Voldemort did not move, though.   
  
"Well? Tom? Shall I tell our story then, my love?"  
  
The last word, love, had come out more as an insult than as a compliment. But Albus knew how much it must have hurt her to pronounce it. Because she had loved Tom Riddle. Truly- entirely.   
  
In a way she still did.  
  
"What story, McGonagall?" Voldemort snapped- in an attempt to seem disdainful and superior, probably. He failed horribly.  
  
Minerva smiled.  
  
"So this is the time to tell it, isn't it? I have wondered about it for many years. Harry-"  
  
She suddenly turned towards the boy who was still standing beside her husband. He looked pale and bruised, but he nodded.  
  
"Yes- Professor?" he almost whispered, his throat dry.  
  
"This is your story, my boy."  
  
Minerva's voice had gone from pride, over contempt, to softly spoken, ancient worry now. And for some reason- every single person who was standing there, looking up to her, on the lawns of Hogwarts, listened- as if they were children, listening to their grandmother's fairytales.  
  
"It is an old tale to tell- but I will tell it. I was younger than you when I found out about it…"  
  
After a moment's silence, she began.  
  
"Long ago, Rowena Ravenclaw was loved by two men. The first one was Salazar Slytherin- the second was another Founder- Godric Gryffindor. She-"  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Rowena loved them both. She first lived with Salazar for a while, but ultimately she chose for Godric and married him. They got one child together- Roderica, born months after her father's murder by Slytherin. Immediately after his death, a Prophecy was made."  
  
She smiled at Harry- but it was a sad smile.  
  
"A Prophecy far greater and more important than the one which you found out two years ago. This one told about something that would come to pass a thousand years after the events. History would repeat itself, Harry."  
  
Minerva closed her eyes. This was the worst part.   
  
But after a deep breath, she continued.  
  
"The Heiress of Ravenclaw would love both the Heir of Gryffindor and the Heir of Slytherin. She would choose Gryffindor in the end. That's what I did."  
  
Only slowly, very slowly, the first, rational thought came seeping into Harry's mind. Was this woman, his Professor, formidable, respectable Professor Minerva McGonagall really trying to say what he thought she was?  
  
Minerva's dark green eyes met his, and slowly she nodded.  
  
"I fell in love with Tom in 7th year. I was in love with Albus, who was my Professor by then, too, but I thought we could never be together. Tom and I lived together for three years- then I left him for Albus."  
  
It was a very short summary of what had been the core of her very life. It seemed so ridiculous to recapitulate those so important facts in barely more than two sentences…  
  
But she had to do it this way.   
  
She noticed Voldemort grow even paler, and he narrowed his eyes as if he wanted to say something- but he didn't and slowly, she went on.  
  
"I and Professor Dumbledore are both descendants of Roderica Gryffindor- yet we married, some months later. James was born shortly afterwards."  
  
This, she knew, was a statement she had to let sink it. She almost smiled as all kinds of different- opposite- emotions showed on his face at the same time. And yet she didn't.  
  
"You- you…"  
  
Harry tried to regain his breath, barely managing to. Albus had to support the young man- it had been quite a shock after all…  
  
"You are my grandparents!"  
  
Minerva seemed to think for a moment…-"You", he had said…- then nodded, a grave expression still on her face.  
  
"Yes, Harry. I am your grandmother."  
  
"But why…"  
  
"Why I then left you at the Dursley's? You needed the protection of your mother's blood, Harry. But that all doesn't matter now. Because, now you know this, you can understand the next part of the Prophecy."  
  
She turned away from Harry- towards Voldemort, in an almost threatening manner. Catch me if you can indeed…  
  
"There is also word about a young boy- an Heir- who will unite through blood lines the Heirs of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and also of Helga Hufflepuff- the somewhat lesser-known Founder who married a muggle. This boy is the only possible weapon to use against the avenging Heir of Slytherin. Only his power and the powers of the three remaining Heirs can shield the world against the Power of the Snake."  
  
She very literally, very dryly repeated the words she had once read, long ago- the words that had changed her life and would change the ones of everyone who heard them.  
  
Especially of the one who was her grandson, and who now finally knew why Lord Voldemort had been after him all his life. She expressed her feelings in words in her next sentence.  
  
"You are that Heir, Harry. Voldemort is after me because he loves me and doesn't know what love means anymore, but he is after you out of fear. I don't know which of the two is more despicable."  
  
She looked again at the tall, black-cloaked figure who was supposed to be the Dark Lord. She couldn't help it, but her dark, green eyes filled with tears as they looked into his. He still was silent.  
  
Oh yes, he loved her. And she loved him, but it was all too late.  
  
It was all over and dealt with long ago.  
  
It took Harry a while to arrange his thoughts. No-one moved- not even the Death Eaters- not even Lord Voldemort himself.  
  
"But- but who then is the Heiress of Hufflepuff?"  
  
Minerva smiled. He knew the answer- who else could it be?  
  
Helga Hufflepuff, that founder with her fiery, red hair, had married a muggle, after all.  
  
"You know, Harry. You know. And only now, now everybody knows everything, now this can become truly the Last Battle, not some useless slaughtering."  
  
Voldemort laughed, suddenly his own, self-confident self again.  
  
"You think you'll win, don't you, Minerva? Tom Riddle did perhaps once love you- but he was weak. I am strong. Friends and allies- attack! Kill all- but keep the slut on the roof alive!"  
  
Minerva smiled, though- a surprisingly carefree smiling for a woman who was about to throw herself into a fight of seven against at least a hundred.  
  
It was the smile of Rowena Ravenclaw, so long ago.  
  
She knew what to do- and before the attacking Death Eaters could even grab one of her legs to pull her off the roof, she had already extended her long, pale arms towards the sky. In a voice that was no longer her own, she yelled  
  
"Godric Gryffindor, Power of the Lion, be there when I call for you!"  
  
Albus looked at her, mouth wide open- and all of a sudden, he couldn't worry about her anymore. A strange light- looking much like a lion- surrounded him, and he felt himself being lifted up and placed between Harry and Voldemort.   
  
"Rowena Ravenclaw, Power of the Eagle, be there when I call for you!"  
  
With a strangely joyous, contented feeling inside, she felt the large, blue eagle she'd expected come towards her. She grabbed its wings and flew- until she stood next to her husband, who laid his hand on her shoulder and softly squeezed it.  
  
"Minerva…" he softly began, but she shook her head and closed her eyes.  
  
This was it.  
  
This had to work.  
  
"Helga Hufflepuff, Power of the Badger, be there when I call for you!"  
  
Harry Potter needed the support of the four students next to him- he would have fainted right away, as in the distance, far away, he noticed a moving object.  
  
Two moving- creatures- looking equally ghost-like- and somehow, equally kind as well.  
  
"Mother!"  
  
It was Lily Potter- sitting side-saddle on the back of a large, yellow badger. She looked surprisingly young, beautiful- and she smiled and nodded.  
  
"Yes, Harry." she muttered, as she took her place between the older wizard and witch. She then grabbed their hands- and as soon as their fingers touched, the lion, eagle and badger whirled together into a white cloud. It flew over their heads back to Harry, and Minerva spoke, although there was more sadness than joy on her face  
  
"Harry, do it."  
  
"Salazar Slytherin, Power of the Snake, be there when I call for you!" Voldemort yelled, desperately waving his wand in the air- and indeed, a large, green snake came.  
  
But as it, too, collided in the white cloud behind Harry, the Dark Lord looked as if he could faint every single second. His narrow, reddish eyes grew bigger and bigger as he tried to utter words- words that were incapable to express anything… He looked at Minerva- who could not but not.  
  
"Do it, Harry."  
  
And as Harry uttered the two, crucial words, he could swear that not three, but four voices echoed them behind him- coming out of the cloud.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
And it was over. 


	18. A Sacrifice

Minerva was breathing very quickly as Voldemort fell. She couldn't quite believe it, but it was true.  
  
The Dark Lord was dead- although he had dragged Tom Riddle, the man she loved, with him towards wherever he had gone. His body was sprawled out on the grass- tall and somehow majestic, but definitely dead. He was gone- as was Lily Potter, whose task was fulfilled and who had returned to where she came from…  
  
And seven, shocked people stared each other- as did the Death Eaters.  
  
But one woman could not just stand there and watch.  
  
Bellatrix Lestrange, now steaming with rage, her face deformed in anger, stormed forwards, pointing her wand at- at Dumbledore  
  
"AVADA…"  
  
Minerva couldn't think- she could just jump in front of him who -that was so clear, so obvious now!- she loved above all others. With all her strength, she pressed her body against his.  
  
Bellatrix would not take him from her. She had taken Tom so many years earlier- but not Albus, never Albus!  
  
"KEDAVRA!"  
  
Minerva closed her eyes, hid her face in Albus' robes as a green light surrounded her- she waited for the final blow.  
  
Which did not come.  
  
When she, very slowly, and minutes later, dared to lift her head and turn around- she saw-  
  
Nothing.  
  
Hogwarts' lawns were empty, but for the six people behind her and the dead body before her.  
  
Her tears started to fall on that moment, when Albus's hand softly, carefully, touched her shoulder. She lost all control and threw herself into the arms which she'd already craved for before having been born. Albus faintly smiled and whispered.  
  
"It is over, my love. Ravenclaw has made the ultimate sacrifice for Gryffindor. Slytherin is defeated. Your giving your life for me has reversed the spell."  
  
She nodded but could hardly stop crying. She felt ashamed because of it- and yet she simply couldn't stop the thick drops of water from staining her cheeks.  
  
"I have been so- so- so damn scared!"  
  
Albus nodded and held her, while the other five, the students, took care of each other.  
  
Each one of them would never be the same again.  
  
It was the utter truth. 


	19. Epilogue: The Truth

Half an hour later, they were still standing there, unable to move and not feeling ready to enter the everyday world again.  
  
But Minerva- although she had craved her husband's protective arms for so long- knew there was one, single, important point all this.  
  
"Albus…"  
  
He read her thoughts and nodded whilst pressing a kiss on her forehead.  
  
"It doesn't hurt me, Minerva. I know he needs to know. I know he-"  
  
"But it hurts- me…"  
  
She felt the tears she'd managed to suppress returning and bit her lips.  
  
It was her responsibility, her husband's eloquent silence seemed to tell her. But his arms around her told her, too, that he would support her.   
  
"Always and for ever, my dear." he said, as she, dark green eyes more uncertain than ever, searched for comfort in his eyes.  
  
"For ever and for always, Albus." she responded, grabbing his arm and turning him towards the place where her grandchild and his friends still stood.  
  
"Harry…"  
  
He came walking over to her, face pale, black hair messy like that of two other boys whom Minerva had known…  
  
"Professor- grandmother…"  
  
The unfamiliar title made her heart feel the warmth it had so desperately needed- and yet the coldness of what she had to say made her tremble lightly.  
  
"Harry… Voldemort…"  
  
She draw a very deep breath, and then spoke the words she knew she needed to say.  
  
"Harry- he was your grandfather."  
  
The End 


End file.
